Secrets to Seducing a Scot (12 page)

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Authors: Michelle Marcos

BOOK: Secrets to Seducing a Scot
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His open hand connected on her upturned posterior, ripping an outraged gasp from her mouth.
“Ow!” she cried out as another fierce smack landed on her behind. No one had ever physically chastised her before … not her father or her nanny or her governesses. It was mortifying, outrageous, scandalous. “How dare you lay a hand on me!”
But alarm replaced fury as she realized he was not
going to stop. Again and again, his large hand swatted her backside, spreading hot pain across her rump.
Panic laced her voice. “Let me go!” But she may as well have been shouting at the green landscape that rushed past.
With one elbow on the leather carriage seat and one hand on his hair-dappled shin, Serena tried valiantly to push herself off his lap. But Malcolm had wrapped his muscled arm around her waist, rendering all her bucking and wriggling useless. She turned the air blue with swear words, threatening all sorts of retribution at him. But nothing succeeded in freeing her from his hold.
“Please, I’ll give you whatever you want,” she cried. Where commands and threats failed, bribery might work. “Just stop!”
He did not relent.
But soon she felt more than pain … she also felt remorse. She had treated him shabbily, and as a result he had been treated harshly by the men on that field. She had put both their lives in peril, and though they had both walked away from the skirmish, only she had come away unscathed. If he had left her to her own devices—if he had not cared enough to rescue her—she would not have been so lucky.
“I’m sorry,” she shouted out.
Finally, his hand stilled.
She scrambled off his lap and backed as far away from him as she could, panting. Now free, her first inclination was to rebuke him harshly. But the look on his face—as fearsome as any firearm—made her rethink that course of action.
Malcolm leaned an elbow on his knee, the one she’d been bent over just a moment before. “I am willing to endure a beating for ye. I am even prepared to accept
the fact that protecting ye may cost me my life. But I will
not
allow ye to casually sell it away from me. Ye can play the high and mighty mistress to yer heart’s content … but not to me. While I’m yer protector, ye will do as I say do. Because if I say it, it’ll be because I’m after protecting both our lives. Now, should there be a next time to all of this, the drawers are coming down. Is that clear to ye?”
Serena’s chest caved. She nodded, pouting piteously.
“Good. Then lesson learned.”
The carriage ride back to Fort Augustus seemed to last a lifetime. Her bottom felt as if it were being pricked by thousands of tiny pins, and she wondered if the stinging would ever stop. The mere possibility of another such chastisement turned her heart to water.
Earlier, here in this carriage, she had made a silent wish that Malcolm would touch her in a very intimate way. She had even fantasized about being on Malcolm’s lap. She just never thought it’d be facedown.
The carriage rolled up to Copperleaf Manor as her father’s carriage came to a halt in the driveway. Serena practically leapt off the perch and flew into his arms.
“Father! I’m so happy to see you!”
He put his arms around her. “Serena, I didn’t expect you back from the Games so soon. Why are your clothes in such a state?” He glanced at Malcolm, and the blood drained from his face. “What’s happened?
“There was an incident, sir,” Malcolm said.
“Are you all right?” he asked Serena.
“Yes … and no.”
“Come inside, all of you.”
He hugged Serena tightly. Tears of self-pity threatened to spill over the rims of her eyes, but she held them back.
As they arrived at the drawing room, Earlington
called for some brandy. Overwrought, he displayed an uncharacteristic show of emotion. “Are you hurt, Serena ?”
Serena glanced at Malcolm. “Not exactly.”
Earlington turned to Malcolm. “Slayter, tell me what’s happened.”
“Yer daughter was beset by a group of men. They knew who she was. They knew who ye were.”
“Dear God. What did they do to you, Serena?”
“Nothing, Father. Truly. They just frightened me, that’s all.”
“Who were these men?”
Gingerly, Malcolm rubbed his face. “I couldna get all their names. But one of them they called Brandubh.” He described all that had happened in the clearing.
Earlington’s nostrils fanned open, but he said nothing.
“He also said that the next time they had to state their grievances, ’twould be with weapons drawn.”
“What happened to your face, Slayter?”
Malcolm hesitated, so Serena spoke up. “He fought them off, Father.” Despite Malcolm’s insult to her person, she had to state the truth. “He … saved me from them.”
Malcolm shrugged. “I used my hard head to split their knuckles for them.”
Earlington’s expression unclenched. “I’m much obliged to you, Slayter,” he said, shaking Malcolm’s hand. “Much obliged. You’ve earned a place in my family.”
For the first time, Serena saw a crack in Malcolm’s stern countenance. His green eyes blinked in astonishment, and his mouth dropped open. It was the look of a starving man who’s just been offered a feast. “Thank ye, sir.”
“The thought of losing my daughter to those men … I can only thank God you were there.” He put a hand
on Malcolm’s shoulder. “You’re a hired man no longer, Slayter. Join us at the dinner table. We want you to. Don’t we, Serena?”
Her wounded pride protested. “But Father, he—” Serena still felt keenly the soreness where Malcolm had thrashed her. “Mr. Slayter took me atop the carriage and—” She was embarrassed to tell her father that Malcolm had acted like a father to her. But more than that, she was needled by the sudden feeling that if she crushed her father’s esteem in Malcolm, she would be depriving both men of something wonderful. “Yes, Mr. Slayter must join us at the dinner table.”
Earlington kissed her on the forehead. “I want you both to know that I will take care of this. No further harm shall come to you. I promise. Go and get washed up. We’ll discuss this at dinner.”
 
Once the two of them had retired, Earlington sank into a chair. The dizziness was getting worse. Every challenge—and every failure—brought another ache in his chest.
So many things to fear, so many things to regret. The negotiations had broken down, and talks had ceased. First the factions had resorted to intimidation, and now violence. A physical threat against his family was enough for any other ambassador to return to his own country and let the government finally declare war. Everything he had learned in politics told him to leave Scotland and turn the people over to their own foolish devices. But his instinct told him differently. Earlington knew that if the king sent in the troops, the ensuing conflict would profit them nothing. It would be a war with no winners. England and Scotland were like two halves of the same body trying to destroy each other. If one died, so would the other.
He was at an impasse, and he needed help from
someone wiser than he. Only one person in the world came to mind.
He got up from his chair and went in search of Gabby Walker.
He questioned a passing maid, who told him that Mrs. Walker could be found in the vegetable garden. With long, purposeful strides, he charged to the kitchens.
Light burst in upon him when he threw open the kitchen door to the gardens. The smell of herbs warming in the sunlight greeted him. He made his way down the rows of leeks, potatoes, and carrots.
When he finally found her, she was kneeling on all fours at the end of a bed of turnips. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and brown mud caked her arms. The afternoon sun sliced across her face, giving her skin a rosy hue, and illuminated a flurry of tiny gnats that swirled in a cloud behind her. A plain brown bonnet covered her head, but he could still see wayward ginger curls bouncing against her cheek.
The sight of her made him forget why he was there. There was a loveliness about her simplicity that he found instantly appealing. She was wholly unlike the debonair woman who was his first wife. When he had married Lady June Harrison, it was a match made in heaven. The lady had breeding and wealth, and there never was a finer hostess in all the world. Gabby, on the other hand, was not beautiful, nor was she elegant … but her earthiness roused a desire in him that he found difficult to tame.
His shadow along the ground announced his arrival.
“Ambassador?” she said, squinting in the sun. “Whatever are ye doing oot in the kitchen garden?”
“Looking for you, actually.”
She wiped her hands on her pinafore. “Oh? What may I do for ye?”
Gazing down at her kneeling before him, her rosy freckles and dazzling blue eyes looking up at him, he suppressed a truthful answer. “Er …” He raced for an answer. “Salve. Mr. Slayter’s been in a brawl, and he’s suffered a few bruises. It’s nothing serious, but I was wondering if you had any remedy that would help him in that regard.”
“I see,” she said, an answer that quickly made Earlington nervous. Gabby was a woman who saw a great deal more than most, even the things he didn’t want her to see. “I’ll get Caointiorn to take him some cream of calendula.”
“Yes.” Earlington wrung his hands, his gaze bouncing around the garden.
“Will that be all, sir?”
He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I was wondering … that is, if you’re not too busy … if you would be so kind … could you talk with me awhile?”
Gabby nodded slowly. “Aye. But ye may as well make yerself useful. Take that spade and help me dig these holes.”
A bemused frown crossed Earlington’s face. He had had in mind a quiet chat over a cup of tea. But he was fascinated by the prospect of the fresh adventure, so he shrugged out of his coat and laid it on a nearby shrub. He took the spade from a milk pail full of gardening tools and began to burrow into the ground.
“Aboot four inches deep, mind, and wide enough for yer hand to fit.”
He set about digging holes in the soft, moist earth. Although his trousers grew damp at the knees, he actually found pleasure in working the cool soil with his bare hands.
Gabby was silent, and he could sense that she was waiting for him to speak. But he found it difficult to put his feeling to words.
“Er, I’m afraid I’m not very good at this.”
She handed him a different spade. “Little by little, as the cat eats the fish.”
He shook his head. “No. I mean talking with you.”
“Aye. I ken what ye mean.”
“Oh.” There it was, that feeling that she could understand well beyond that which was plain. “You see, I’ve been very concerned about the negotiations. They’re not going as I’d hoped. The factions have split, and the ones with revolutionary sympathies are taking control. The English Parliament is perfectly prepared to go to battle with Scotland, and the Scottish Council is daring them to. It seems the only one who is after peace is me.”
“Aye.”
“And now I’ve awakened a great swarm of enemies. The opposition has not only threatened my daughter, but actually accosted her. I’m afraid that any attempt to negotiate a peace with Scotland will not only endanger what’s left of my family, but will be to no avail whatsoever. I even made a promise to keep my daughter safe, a promise I’m not confident I can keep.”
“Aye.”
“And to top it all off, I’m so angry at those men for laying their hands on her. I actually started to think a spate of war might do those stubborn Scots some good. They robbed me of my impartiality and turned me against them, when all I really wanted to do was restore their faith in union and bring about goodwill on both sides.”
“Aye.”
Despite his problems, he had to chuckle at Gabby. “Do you always talk this much?”
She smiled. “Aye.” She lifted a wisp of hair from her cheek. “If the Good Lord had meant for us to be doing more bletherin’ than listening, he would hae given us two mouths instead of two ears.”
Earlington smiled. “Perhaps you’re right. However, I would appreciate even half a mouthful right now. I’d like to know your thoughts.”
“Why should a man of yer importance be after asking someone like me?”
He shrugged. “Call it seeking the wealth of wise counsel. King Solomon was widely believed to be the wisest man who ever lived, and even though he needed wise counsel the least, he wrote about its value the most.”
Gabby handed him a bowl full of peeled garlic cloves. “Drop one of these in all of the holes, then push the soil back in.”
“What’s it for?” he said, puzzling over the bowl.
“The garlic will dispel the wee beasties that’ll be after m’neeps.”
He shrugged, but did as she asked. “What do you think I should do?”
Gabby swiped a smudge of mud off her nose with her sleeve. “I think ye should dig a small trench with yer finger, like so, all along this row.”
Earlington sighed, running his finger along the dirt. “Not meaning to be rude, but—”
“And place one of these turnip seeds aboot two inches apart all doon the row.”
He took the seed pouch from her dirt-smeared hand, and pulled one of the tiny seeds out. He dropped one onto the soil, then another and another. “There. Two inches apart.”
“Noo cover it up with the rest of the soil. Just like that. Well done. And give it a sprinkle of water to moisten the topsoil.”
Earlington took the watering can and upturned it all along the row of turnip seeds they’d just planted.
Gabby stood up, and shook the dirt from her hands.
“You’re leaving?” asked Earlington, setting down the watering can.
“Aye. I’ll be off to fetch the balm for Mr. Slayter.”
“Wait …” Earlington’s eyebrows drew together. “What am I to do?”
Gabby looked down at him, her face transforming into something serene. “All we can do is sow the seed. It’s up to the Good Lord to make it take root. Isn’t that right, sir?”
Her eyes held a world of meaning. She was transmitting a message in a language Earlington was just beginning to understand, and he began to see dimly what she was saying. All he could do was sow the seeds of peace. It was not his responsibility to make the peace grow. “Yes, of course,” he agreed softly. “Still, there are those who would destroy what we’ve so carefully sown.”
“Och, the wee beasties! They’re oot there. Probably waiting till oor backs are turned to come and snatch oor crops away. A healthy drop of the garlic should ward off the attackers for a time, no?”
Earlington clambered to his feet.
Malcolm?
“For a time, perhaps. But any preventive measure wears away when there are too many to overpower it.”
She shrugged and picked up her pail. “’Tis a chance we have to take. Do it, and there’s a good chance we will eat. Do it not, and we shall certainly starve.”
No more speaking in riddles. “And what of the hate? How do I combat the hate that is growing within me?”
Gabby sighed deeply. “Anger is more hurtful to ye than the wrong that caused it. Let it go. Ye’ve too good a heart to let it be poisoned by the deeds of evil men.
Remember the ones who have no voice in the matter. They’re the ones ye’re doing all this for.”
Earlington smiled at her. What an amazing woman. He stepped up to her and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

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